Shattered Glass
by Just-Chiara
Summary: The events of 6.18 "Lauren" threaten to break up not only Morgan and Reid, but the team as well.  Morgan/Reid, past Morgan/Reid/Emily, team. Sequel to "Changes", but can be read as a stand-alone.
1. Prologue

_And our time is running out_  
><em>And our time is running out<em>  
><em>You can't push it underground<em>  
><em>You can't stop it screaming out<em>  
><em>How did we come to this?<em>  
><strong>Time Is Running Out, Muse<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

The unsub had gotten away and his latest victim lay still and cold on the floor. Hotch had blood on his shirt and hands – the victim's blood, not his own. He'd tried to save him, but it had been too late. This time, evil had won. This time, it was their fault.

"What happened in there?" Strauss would ask later.

The unsub had tricked them and they hadn't seen it. That was what they would say. But it wasn't the whole truth. It was far more complicated than that. Everything in their investigation had gone wrong. The case wasn't even that complicated: they could have delivered the profile after three hours. It should have been over much sooner and with a very different outcome.

But in order for a team to work, trust is needed. You need to be able to trust that the others may be right and you may be wrong; you need to be able to trust that they know what they're doing and there's no need to second-guess them every step of the way; and – if you are putting your life at risk – you need to be able to trust your team with it, to know that they have your back and won't let you down.

Derek felt a light touch on his shoulder and he knew it was Spencer before even turning around to face him. They shared a meaningful glance.

Spencer was about to say something when Rossi approached them.

"We need to do something about _this_," he said. Derek and Spencer couldn't agree more. They just weren't sure that something could be done.

Could they really put the pieces back together and be a team again?


	2. Chapter 1: Denial

**PART ONE: LOSING YOU**  
><strong>Chapter One: Denial<strong>

_Four months earlier…_

Spencer was lying on his side on Emily's bed and was looking out of the big open window. His dark grey jacket (he'd refused to wear black, as if such a simple gesture could bring her back and wasn't just a blatant expression of denial) lay on a chair together with his purple scarf. He'd taken them off not so much to get comfortable as because he was feeling like he couldn't breathe. After taking long, deep breaths in front of the window, he'd stepped back slowly and let himself collapse on the bed.

"I knew I'd find you here." Derek was now standing by the door.

"It's where it all begun," Spencer said quietly, without turning to look at him.

Derek stepped inside the room and closed the window. It was getting dark outside and the air was chilly. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

He closed his eyes. Seeing Spencer on her bed was somehow too much. It was the bed where they'd made love for the first time, the three of them. Where they'd slept together and where they'd been happy – sort of happy – as happy as they could hope to be. Even after he and Spencer had gotten together and Emily had gone back to being just a friend, there had always been something special between them. They could understand each other better than anyone else.

"Come here."

Spencer didn't reply, just slowly got up and went to stand in front of him, let Derek pull him into a loose embrace and leaned against him. Derek's body was warm and Spencer tried to focus on that, on the way his hands ran up and down his back, on the soft, comforting kisses Derek was pressing against his skin.

The whole team had come to Emily's apartment after the funeral to check on Sergio. The neighbors had taken care of him in the last few days, but now it was time for a more definitive solution. Garcia had offered to take him, but Spencer had insisted that he wanted to. They were going to try and see if he got along with Clooney, otherwise Sergio would just stay at Spencer's apartment.

Truth to be told, Sergio had just been an excuse. You don't need seven people to take care of a cat, but you do need your friends – _your family_ – with you when you lose someone, and none of them were too keen on going home, maybe alone, right after the funeral.

Garcia had made coffee, taking comfort in taking care of others, and for a while they'd sat together at the kitchen table, alternating easy silence to softly told memories.

Remember that guy who pretended to be an FBI agent to impress women at a bar? Remember the time in Las Vegas when she was drunk and kissed Derek? Remember how she was ready to leave the team rather than betray them?

Ambassador Prentiss had interrupted them with her arrival. She was there to take care of the apartment, she'd explained, as if it was official business and not her daughter's life they were talking about. They could all read behind the mask: she was hiding the truth from herself because she couldn't face it without falling apart – and she didn't fall apart, ever, not even if her Emily died.

It'd been Rossi who'd talked to her, assuring her that they could take care of the apartment: it was no trouble at all; Doctor Reid had already offered to bring Emily's cat home with him – unless she wanted to, of course; they could pack up Emily's things and send them to her, but would she mind if they all took something to remember their friend by?

JJ and Hotch had excused themselves to call home and talk to their respective sons, while Spencer had disappeared in Emily's room. Derek, after following him with his eyes, had decided to give him a few minutes alone and had sat down on the couch with Garcia. Seaver had announced that she was going to look for Sergio and had come back a few minutes later with the cat purring in her arms. Leaving Garcia with her and Sergio, Derek had joined Spencer in the bedroom.

He knew he was lucky because at least he had Spencer and he wasn't going home alone that night. And yet, as he held Spencer in his arms, he knew their bed would still feel empty that night, just like the night before and the one before that. Even if Emily hadn't shared their bed in a long time, the feeling of something missing was still there – and he knew Spencer had felt it too.

He wondered if Hotch still felt the same, even though he and Hailey had gotten divorced years before she was killed. He tightened his arms around Spencer and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"We should go," he said after a few minutes. "We're not here alone."

Spencer didn't move.

"Kid?"

"Yeah, we should go." Reluctantly, Spencer broke the hug and went to get his jacket.

* * *

><p>Later, at Spencer's apartment, Derek fixed dinner while Spencer got Sergio settled.<p>

"He's still confused, but he doesn't look scared anymore," Spencer said, taking a seat at the table. Had it been anyone else in the kitchen with him, he would have offered to help since it was his apartment. But it was Derek and he could handle making a couple of sandwiches on his own.

God, he felt so tired.

Derek shot him a quick glance, before focusing back on the sandwiches.

"Are we profiling cats now?" he asked, trying to sound as light as he could. He succeeded in making Spencer smile, at least for a second. "Tomorrow we can bring Clooney here. I think it's better if they get to know each other on neutral territory."

"Mhm."

"Headache?" Derek turned around to look at him.

"No, I'm just tired. Haven't gotten much sleep these past few days."

"Yeah."

Derek finished making the sandwiches and set the plate down on the table. Before sitting down in front of Spencer, he kissed his hair lightly. Neither of them was hungry, not really, but dinner was something normal and they needed it right now.

"She didn't seem to care," Derek said after a while. "I know everyone grieves in their own way, but she just lost her daughter. No one expects her to be professional about it; she has a right to be devastated."

Spencer shrugged. "Maybe she's afraid that if she lets herself cry, she will never be able to stop."

"This seems like a quote from one of your books," said Derek with the hint of a smile. Still, he knew Spencer was right. But denial wasn't going to work forever, at some point we all need to face reality.

He was about to say as much when Spencer asked, "Can we talk about something else?"

He nodded. He could see how tired Spencer was, how close to breaking down. Even before Emily—even _before_, he'd been worried and scared about his own mental health, the ghost of schizophrenia haunting him. Now… now Derek could only thank God that Spencer was strong, otherwise he wouldn't be able to take it.

"Why don't you tell me about that tv show you want us to watch together?" he asked gently. It wasn't his thing, but it was Spencer's and if it made Spencer happy to talk about it, they were going to talk about it.

"_Doctor Who_? Are you saying you really want to watch it with me?" Spencer smiled.

Derek nodded yes, then mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Ambassador Prentiss was in denial, but he was just as guilty, focusing on Spencer's pain instead of his own. He didn't care. _Whatever gets you through the day._


	3. Chapter 2: Anger

**Chapter Two: Anger**

"Explain something to me, boy genius," Derek said, closing the front door behind him. "Why does my dog only get dirty at the park when I just had the car cleaned?"

"He doesn't."

Derek could tell Spencer was amused even though he couldn't see his smile. He guided Clooney to the back yard, then joined his boyfriend in the living room. Spencer was sitting cross-legged on the couch, still in his PJs – long striped pants and an old t-shirt of Derek's he'd borrowed once and never given back – and was drinking coffee while flipping rapidly through the pages of the newspaper.

As soon as Derek was by his side, Spencer started explaining. "He doesn't get dirty when you have your car cleaned, he gets dirty after you've been away for longer than usual. It's his passive-aggressive way of telling you he missed you." Derek was about to say something, but Spencer went on: "And as for the car, you always have it cleaned when you come back after long cases. It's one of the things you do to relax."

"Rule number two, baby," Derek reminded him.

"I'm not profiling you, I just… _notice_." Spencer closed the newspaper and set it down on the small table next to the couch. "Coffee's still hot if you want some."

"Yeah, I could use some coffee."

He headed to the kitchen, bringing Spencer's mug with him to refill it, even though it wasn't empty yet. Spencer followed him quietly.

They'd come back the night before from their first case away from Washington since Emily. It hadn't been worse than many others, but her not being there had made things harder than usual. They had still pulled it off and somehow that _hurt_. She wasn't with them, but they were still able to catch the unsub. As if she wasn't needed. Which, of course, wasn't the truth. Hotch would need to find a replacement soon enough: as smart as Seaver was, she lacked the experience and couldn't take Emily's place.

_Not that anyone could_, Derek thought as he poured the coffee in their mugs. He handed one to Spencer and sat down at the table.

"Talk to me," Spencer said, taking a seat in front of him and reaching out to brush his fingers over his hand.

"I was just thinking about the case, that's all."

"Liar." Spencer's voice wasn't angry or accusing, he wasn't even asking for the truth. He was just telling him he knew he was lying and was there if he ever wanted to share what was really on his mind.

Derek acknowledged as much by lacing their fingers together, but was silent for a while. There was a question he'd been meaning to ask Spencer for days, but he wasn't sure it wasn't better left unspoken.

"Do you blame me?" he asked eventually. No need to say for what.

"Blame you? Why should I?" Spencer was genuinely surprised. "You did everything you could, we all did. Sometimes it just… it just isn't enough."

Derek knew better. He'd replayed the whole thing in his mind over and over again. Just a few minutes, maybe just a few seconds, and she'd be alive. He could have been there a few seconds earlier. If he'd only pushed himself a little harder…

"And you shouldn't blame yourself," Spencer was saying. "Derek, it wasn't your fault. It was nobody's fault but Doyle's."

"She should have told us, we could have protected her." Derek got up and started pacing around the room.

"She was trying to protect us. You would have done the same, you know you would." Spencer sounded hurt now, becoming aware that his words were the truth as he spoke them.

"No, I wouldn't have. I would have trusted my team, I would have trusted _you_!"

Spencer swallowed hard. Their eyes met for a second.

"Do you?" he asked in a small voice. "Do you really trust me?"

"What is that supposed to mean? Of course I trust you, Spencer, you're my boyfriend."

Spencer got up and crossed his arms on his chest defensively. "But you don't talk to me. I've told you how I feel about Emily being… _gone_, you haven't. You say you're hurting but then you act like everything's okay and I'm the one who's broken."

"You're one to talk!" retorted Derek. "Just how long did you wait before you told me about your headaches? Sometimes I wonder if you'd still told me if I hadn't found those books on migraines." Derek was shouting now, all the anger and fear he's bottled up ready to explode. "What the hell were you waiting for?"

Spencer winced at his raised voice, but held his ground. "I was scared! I didn't want to think about it." He took a deep breath to calm himself down and looked at Derek, trying to make him understand. "Telling you made it real."

"I'm your boyfriend, for fuck's sake!" Derek stepped closer to him and pushed him back against the wall, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to tell Spencer he was beyond angry. Derek had never before used his strength against him, not like this, not in a threatening way. Spencer knew he wouldn't really punch him, but it said something about how angry Derek was that he was so close to actually hurt him.

"Derek," Spencer whispered, not even trying to break free from him. He didn't add anything else. No _You're hurting me_, or _You're scaring me_, or _Please let me go_. Just his name. And Derek let go of his shoulders and stumbled back a few steps.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have."

Spencer took a moment to calm himself down, then slowly closed the distance between them and reached out to touch his arm. "It's okay," he said.

Derek shrugged away from the touch and turned his back to him. "You should go now."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"It's my house and I don't want you here. You don't trust me and you think that I don't trust you, so what are we even doing together?" Derek faced him again and looked him in the eye. Serious.

Spencer tried to reach out a hand again, but Derek caught his wrist mid-air and pushed it away. Trying and failing not to feel hurt at the gesture, Spencer moved away from him.

"So what are you saying, that we're over? It's just a fight, Derek," Spencer said. When they'd started dating, Derek had told him they would fight at some point, but he shouldn't worry because it was what couples did; it didn't mean he was going to end up alone. Only, apparently, now he was.

Derek had been angry before and he still was – but now he was thinking straight. It wasn't the anger talking when he said they shouldn't be together.

"It's not just a fight. We're over. Maybe we were never really together in the first place."

"Fuck you, Derek!" Spencer said. He quickly got his jacket and his go-away bag and left.

Derek stood in the middle of his kitchen, thinking it was the first time he'd heard Spencer say 'fuck'.

Yeah, because of course _that_ was what mattered right now. He slammed his fist on the wooden table. Now he'd lost him too.

* * *

><p>No one said a word at the office, but as soon as Derek and Spencer were in the same room it was clear to everybody that something was deeply wrong with their relationship. They acted very professionally, even worked together on the victimology and did a very good job at it. But they wouldn't meet each other's eye, they sat furthest away from each other than usual and they didn't exchange any jokes or off topic remarks. They focused on the job and acted like they didn't even know each other.<p>

That they were a couple was no secret to the rest of the team, even though they'd never said it out loud. Hotch thought that as long as he didn't officially know about it, he had no reason to worry about fraternization. It wasn't like their relationship had even gotten in the way of their jobs. Except maybe for Derek wanting to break into a contaminated lab because Spencer was in there, but in the end he hadn't and that was what mattered.

Now he could only hope they would make up, or at least manage not to let their break up affect their performance at work. It was hard enough without Emily.

He was watching Reid shoot a glance at Morgan's back, wondering if it meant that it had been Morgan's decision's to break up, when his cell phone rang. New case, needed urgently in Indianapolis for the kidnapping of a 7-year-old.

Whatever was happening between his two agents, Hotch hoped an innocent kid wouldn't have to suffer because of it.


	4. Chapter 3: Bargaining

**Chapter Three: Bargaining**

Two weeks went by.

Seeing Spencer every day was hard. Knowing that Spencer was suffering, that he was causing at least part of it, and not being able to do anything, was even harder. He and Spencer had always leaned on each other, always confided in the other when something was bothering them. Well, not always – wasn't that just the reason why they broke up? – but still. They'd been there for each other when needed, and just knowing that sometimes had been enough.

Sometimes, it had been Gideon or JJ that Spencer had confided in – but they were both gone. So was Emily, in a different and more definitive way; Emily, who'd been Derek's own confidant when he couldn't talk to Spencer, who'd been Spencer's too at times. Maybe she'd been the one holding them together, after all.

_Bullshit_. He'd loved (still loved) Spencer and it had nothing to do with Emily. It was the whole point of why their relationship had changed, of why she'd stepped aside, so that they could be together, the two of them. She'd always been special, but she hadn't been the reason why they'd been together for almost three years.

The problems he and Spencer had were theirs and theirs alone. It would have happened anyway eventually. What happened to Emily probably just speeded up the end.

But was it the end for them? Were they really over? He couldn't imagine not kissing Spencer ever again, not sleeping with Spencer in his arms ever again.

He wished Emily was there, that he could talk to her. Was he selfish for wishing she was alive because he needed her?

_Fuck that_. It wasn't the time for big questions, he didn't have the energy.

Spencer was shutting his computer down and getting ready to go. Derek thought how easy it would be to stop him, ask him to talk. They could figure it out, couldn't they? He just needed to tell him he loved him and he missed him. They would both apologize for keeping things from each other, insist that it was their own fault, no, really, and then they would kiss and promise to always tell each other everything.

And live happily ever fucking after.

Right.

Only, this was real life, not a stupid romantic comedy. In real life, Spencer gathered his things and left, and Derek let him.

_Fuck_.

He needed to talk to Garcia. Even though usually it was the other way around: her having a problem and him doing the fixing, the comforting. He was good at that, at taking care of the people he loved. (And yet he failed to save her.) He wasn't that good at being the one who needed help.

At this point, though, it was either talk to her or go out of his mind.

* * *

><p>"And under no circumstances you are going to have sex with him."<p>

Those were the last words Garcia had told him before letting him take her home. Talk to him and try to figure things out, or try and forget about him ("and make the biggest mistake of your life"), but do not have sex with him.

It had seemed simple enough. When he and Spencer were in the same room, they were working on a case – and sex had never been on his mind when someone's life was at risk.

So how exactly had he ended up in Spencer's hotel room and bed, waking up the next morning with Spencer's naked body snuggled against his?

He'd only knocked on his door to make sure he was okay. After all, you never get used to having a gun pointed at you and Derek knew for Spencer it brought back memories of Tobias, too. But as soon as Spencer had opened the door, he'd pushed him (gently this time) back inside the room and kissed him. He'd kissed him because he missed him, and because he loved him, and because he had almost died today and he needed to make sure he was _alive_. That he hadn't lost him forever.

A kiss was all it'd taken for them to forget they weren't together anymore, to stop thinking and let their bodies take control. Hands and lips had traced familiar skin, bodies moving together, mouths crashing against each other and hearts beating faster in their chests. After, they hadn't tried to talk, knowing nothing would come out of it. But when Derek had moved to get up, Spencer had tugged at his wrist in a silent request to stay.

So he had. Spencer needed it and he needed it too. It wasn't like things could get any more complicated than that, really.

Sliding an arm around Spencer's waist, Derek had thought maybe there was still hope for them. Maybe they weren't over. Maybe they could have their happily-ever-after.

"What does this mean?" Spencer asked in the morning as he finished getting dressed. "I mean, where do we go from here?"

"I don't know," Derek admitted.

"Then maybe we should forget about it, because it's hard enough even without—" Without what? Being reminded of what he'd lost? Getting his hopes up that they could be together again? "It's hard enough."

Derek nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come last night."

"I'm glad you did. Even though…"

"Yeah, me too. Even though." Derek smiled at him, then left.


	5. Chapter 4: Depression

**Chapter Four: Depression**

They were in the middle of Fucking Nowhere, Hell. Or, at least, it was hot enough to be Hell, and there was _nothing_ around them. It turned out evil looked just as bad in a small town of barely two hundred people all related to each other one way or the other, as it did in New York City or San Francisco.

The FBI had been called in to help after the third murder, in the hope they could bring some objectivity to the case along with a profile. It was almost impossible to see all your friends and relatives, all the people you grew up with, as suspects of a serial murder case.

And yet that was the first thing the BAU team had said when they arrived: it was someone from the town; an outsider would have been noticed.

It'd taken them less than 15 hours to narrow down the suspect list to one deranged teenager who'd soon enough admitted he'd been killing because he was bored.

"He was bored," Rossi said, still in disbelief despite himself. He rarely saw something that really shocked him anymore, having learned by now to expect the worse from humanity, but this was something. The joke he'd made on arrival about becoming a serial killer too if he'd had to live in such a place his whole life, was now strangely disturbing.

Derek shrugged. "It's just an excuse. He would have become a killer even if he'd lived in Paris or Las Vegas."

"Speaking of Las Vegas," Rossi nodded in the general direction of Spencer, who was sitting miserably on the couch in the hall of the motel, rubbing at his eyes as if he wanted to take them out. "Are you going to just ignore him?"

Derek looked at Spencer. Migraine, and a bad one too. He was glad they were spending the night in Fucking Nowhere, Spencer didn't look like he could make it to the car, let alone to the airport and all the way back to Washington.

He went to sit on the couch next to him and placed a hand on his knee to let him know he was there. "Let's get you to bed," he said.

He expected Spencer to say he was fine, instead he went with Derek's second pick of stupid answer: "I can do it by myself."

Of course he could. Only, not really, because as soon as he moved to get up the pain in his head made him dizzy and, if it hadn't been for Derek's hold on his arm, he would have fallen down.

"Humor me," Derek said, as he slid an arm around Spencer's waist to steady him.

Spencer really didn't have any energy left to fight, and after all he really _couldn't_ do it by himself, so he let Derek help him to his small bedroom and on the bed. He kept his eyes closed – the light fucking _hurt_ him – trusting Derek to lead him around any obstacles. He also let him take off his shoes and guide him to lie down.

He mumbled a 'thanks' when Derek shut the blinds. When he heard him leave the room, he sighed. He didn't even know what he'd been hoping, maybe just that Derek would magically make his headache disappear before leaving. He would have been happy with that, at the moment.

Truth was, he'd been hoping Derek would stay.

He buried his head beneath the pillow and started mentally listing the Beatles' albums, with year of release and tracklist. Something easy to keep his mind busy and maybe forget about the throbbing pain in his head.

He was half-way through the tracklist of _Revolver_ when he heard the door open. Someone came in, then the door was shut again. He tensed.

"It's just me, kid," Derek whispered. He hadn't called him 'kid' ever since they'd broken up.

"'kay," Spencer managed to say. He felt the mattress sink under Derek's weight as he sat down on the bed next to him and then the pillow being moved away from over his head. He let out a displeased moan, but did nothing to cover his head again.

"I went to get you some ice."

It wasn't as effective as a painkiller, but on the other hand it did help some and as far as Spencer knew, no one had ever gotten addicted to it. After taking a moment to gather his strength, he rolled over on his back, his left arm going up to protect his eyes from even the faintest light. Without saying a word, Derek unbuttoned his shirt and helped him take it off. Once Spencer was lying on his belly again, he placed the towel-wrapped ice on his neck, skin now naked without the shirt collar protecting it.

Spencer sighed at how good it felt against his hot skin. Now he just had to wait for the ice to relieve some of the pain. He usually felt better in a matter of ten minutes, and half an hour later he could open his eyes and sometimes even read a book without feeling like a knife was being pushed into his brain.

It took him a while to notice that Derek was rubbing the small of his back in slow circles. He was suddenly reminded of the first time Derek had done it. It was a Sunday afternoon and they were lying on the couch snuggled up together. Derek was watching the game and losing a friendly banter with Emily on why men like football so much. Spencer had decided it was not worth getting into it and preferred to bury his head in Derek's shoulder and try to take a nap. When Derek started rubbing his back, he smiled. It felt _good_. He was almost asleep when he heard an amused Emily ask, "Is he purring yet?"

He smiled at the memory despite the pain – which, actually, was slowly subsiding.

And then he remembered what, even for a few minutes, he'd managed to forget. He and Derek weren't together anymore. Derek was only there because of his headache. As soon as he felt better, Derek would go back to his own room. Even if he'd stayed the night, it didn't mean in the morning things would be different.

He immediately tensed at the thought and, careful not to make any sudden movements, shifted away from Derek's touch.

"I'm feeling better, thank you. You can go now. I'll be fine," he said. He opened his eyes to prove his point. His head was still throbbing, but much less than before.

"Do you _want_ me to go? Because I can stay…"

"No, go. I'm not your boyfriend, remember? You don't have to take care of me."

Derek sighed at that. "I still care about you, kid. Always will."

"Don't call me that." Keeping the ice in place with one hand, Spencer sat up so he wouldn't have to look up at Derek. "_You_ broke up with _me_. _You_ left _me_. So go and give me a chance to forget about you. It's hard enough to see you at work every day, without having you touching me like that or calling me 'kid'. Please, just… just go."

Having said that, Spencer collapsed back into a lying position and closed his eyes shut, hoping to fall asleep soon. All Derek could do was what Spencer had asked him: leave.


	6. Chapter 5: Acceptance

**Chapter Five: Acceptance**

The following morning, Derek took his place at the wheel of one of the black SUVs and watched in the rearview mirror as Spencer climbed into the backseat of the other one. He drove to the airport in silence, leaving all the talking to Rossi and Seaver.

On the jet, he passed by the seat were Spencer was trying to get comfortable adjusting a pillow behind his neck at the right angle, and went to sit in the back, away from him. If being left alone was what Spencer needed, it was just what Derek was going to do. He owed him as much: he had a right of trying and getting his life back together.

Maybe it would be better for him too. Maybe, with time, they could be friends again – just friends. Or maybe, as Garcia had suggested in a fit of panic, one of them would leave the BAU and transfer to the other side of the country and they would never hear from each other again.

"Always the drama queen," Derek had commented with an amused smile. Garcia had slapped him on the arm.

Going through the playlists of his iPod, Derek decided he was going to go see Garcia when they landed. A night out with his friend was what he needed. He hoped she didn't have any plans with Kevin.

Finally having picked 'Unnamed mix #3', Derek pressed play and stretched out his legs. When he saw Spencer getting up, he thought he would go to the toilet, or maybe to ask Seaver to play cards with him. Instead, he went to sit down in front of Derek.

"Feeling better?" Derek asked after taking his earplugs off. It wasn't going to earn him any best conversation starter award, but it was all he could think about.

Spencer seemed grateful at the question, as if he hadn't known what to say himself. "Yeah, headache's gone. I even managed to sleep seven full hours."

"Wow, that must be some sort of record in the FBI," Derek joked. "Don't let Strauss know, she may take away your badge."

Spencer smiled at that. "I won't."

After that easy exchange, silence fell between them. Spencer looked down at his shoes, then back at Derek. "I wanted to thank you for last night. You didn't have to do it, but you did. I'm sorry I kicked you out like that, it's just… hard, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know. Every time I see you I wish things were different."

Spencer nodded. "Me too." He took a deep breath. "Do you think—do you think it's too late for us? That we are _really_ over?"

"I don't know. I hope not, but I don't see where we can go from here." Derek leaned forward. "I was angry that day, but what I said was the truth: you didn't trust me enough to tell me you were scared out of your mind that you could have it."

"I think… I think I was trying to protect you. I know how hard it is for my mum, but I also know how hard it is for me. I don't want you to go through what I did." Spencer took a deep breath. "And at the same time I was afraid you would leave if you knew. Because that's what my father did eventually, because that's what everyone does."

Derek reached out and took Spencer's hand in his. "I wouldn't have left."

"But you did. Not because of that, but you did."

"Yeah, I guess I did." Derek looked out of the window for a moment, then back at Spencer. "But I'm still here, if you need me. If you want to talk."

Spencer hesitated. He looked at their hands. "What if I want us to try and fix things?" he said in a whisper, afraid of the answer. "We've been together almost three years, Derek. We can't give up so easily."

When did Spencer grow up?, Derek wondered. When they'd first met his social skills were practically non-existent and when they'd gotten together he'd admitted to having no experience in relationships. And yet here he was, asking him not to throw away a three-year-relationship for one fight.

He was right, of course. They owed it to themselves to at least try.

"Tell you what," he said. "Why don't you come to my place tonight? We can talk and figure things out. What do you say?"

"Sounds good. I'll bring something to eat. Indian or Italian?"

"Up to you. You know I like both."

Derek let go of his hand and leaned back against the seat. Spencer relaxed back himself, then straightened back up and looked nervously at Derek. "Do you mind if I stay here?"

"Of course not."


	7. Chapter 6: Strategy

**PART TWO: GOING TO WAR**  
><strong>Chapter Six: Strategy<strong>

"Peace is back in paradise," Rossi commented the following morning, as Derek and Spencer got out of the elevator together. They were laughing at something one of them just said.

"I wasn't worried," Garcia said with confidence, even though it wasn't exactly the truth. But what mattered was that now the crisis was over.

Spencer set his messenger bag down on the floor by his desk and Derek threw his empty coffee cup in the trash bin. They shared a few words, then Spencer nodded and they made their way across the bullpen and up the stairs to where Rossi and Garcia were standing.

They asked them to meet them in the conference room in a few minutes, then went to knock on Hotch's door to ask him the same. Apparently, they had something important to say.

"We've been talking about what happened to Emily," Derek said, once Seaver had also joined them at the round table.

The night before, after dinner, they had talked about their fight and the reasons behind it. They'd agreed that they'd both been on edge because of Emily's death and they had taken it out on one another. It was a stressful period for both of them but they weren't going to let it ruin their relationship.

They were also not going to let Doyle get away with what he did.

"We think it's time we start working on the case again. Doyle is still out there when he deserves to be in prison. We need to find him, both for Emily and for ourselves, so that we can find some closure and not let it affect… our lives," – Spencer looked at Derek for a brief second – "more than it already does."

Derek went on. "We owe it to Emily. It won't bring her back to us, but it's the right thing to do. Maybe we won't find him, maybe he's already fled the country, but we can't give up looking for him that easily. We have to at least try."

The others nodded their agreements. They were all in, of course.

"We are personally involved," Hotch said. "They won't let us join the official investigation. But if anyone has a chance of catching him, it's us. We know Emily better than anybody else: we can profile him through what _she_ did as well as what he did – because every move she made, it was keeping in mind who he was." He looked at his team. He wasn't sure they were ready to deal with this, but apparently they were. And if they could catch Doyle…

"Let's get to work, then. Garcia, I need you to pull all the case files."

"Consider it done."

Derek's eyes met Spencer's. They team was back on its feet. They could pull through.

* * *

><p>The only sound in the room was the rain pouring outside the window. Derek and Spencer were lying in bed next to each other: Derek on his back, eyes closed even though he wasn't sleeping; Spencer on his belly, propped up on his elbows and reading a book.<p>

It was getting late, but they weren't tired. They'd spent their much-deserved day off relaxing, only going out to take Clooney for a walk in the park and then later for dinner. Neither of them wanted to say it, but the six-month anniversary of Emily's death was getting closer. It was now only two days away. Only six months before, they'd reopened Doyle's case. Now they weren't much closer to catching him than they were when they started.

They'd been able to follow his trail to New York City, but then they'd lost him. His last sighting had been at the airport, getting ready to board a plane to Ireland. Only, a ten-hour-long research on Garcia's part, had revealed he was never on the plane. He'd been playing with them and was now probably still in the country. Or, as Rossi had said, he could have crossed the border to Canada by train, bus, or even by car. They had his picture, but a fake ID and a disguise could get him through without being stopped.

Of course, they were keeping an eye on his known contacts. If he tried to get a new identity from any of them, they would know. The problem was, he could use someone they didn't know about and get away with it.

"I can hear you thinking," Spencer said, taking his eyes off the page to look at him.

"I think I just thought we would be able to catch him."

Spencer moved closer to him and rested his head on the pillow next to Derek's. "We will. We have to."

"I hope so. The bastard needs to pay for what he's done." Derek turned to his side and wrapped an arm loosely around Spencer's waist. "Sometimes I wonder if we'll feel better afterwards."

"It won't bring her back," was all Spencer said.


	8. Chapter 7: Battle

**Chapter Seven: Battle**

The phone call came just when they got home. They'd been away on a case for three days and all they were looking forward to was a shower and a long night of sleep. Apparently, it wasn't going to happen, thought Derek looking at the caller ID on the display of his work phone: _Hotch_.

Spencer's phone was ringing too, Garcia's name on his display. It must be urgent. And _big_. Terrorist attack big.

They picked up the calls at the same time, looking at each other while they tried to understand what was going on.

"It's Doyle," Derek said as soon as he hung up.

"Garcia found him," Spencer finished, while they both headed for the door. They didn't want to allow themselves to believe it, but it was really happening. He'd made a mistake. He'd contacted the wrong person. They had him. All they needed to do, was not be too late this time.

* * *

><p>"We're about to arrest the man who killed Emily, there's no way I'm going to wait outside," Spencer was saying as he checked the strings of his bulletproof jacket.<p>

"I don't want you to go in there. I can't lose you too, Spencer." Derek kept driving, eyes on the road. He wasn't going to let Spencer within a hundred feet of that monster. "He's dangerous."

"So I should let _you_ go in there?"

"I can take him."

"Emily thought she could, too." Spencer paused for a second. "Either we both go in, or we both stay out. Your choice."

Derek didn't answer, but when he stopped the car, he made his way to the entrance of the building where the SWAT team was waiting for an order. Spencer followed him quietly and took out his gun.

It was dark inside; the sun filtering through the shut blinds projecting long shadows in the empty rooms. There was a mattress in the corner of one room with a packed suitcase besides it: signs that this was just a temporary hiding place. Doyle was going to be there for a few days, top.

Maybe he was already gone, Spencer considered. But he wouldn't have been so stupid as to leave his suitcase there – assuming it wasn't empty, that was.

He met Derek's eyes for a second: he was making the same considerations.

_He has to be here_, Spencer thought. _He just has to be, because just for this once the world has to be fair and let us arrest the monster who killed her._

It wasn't rational, he knew that. But he still needed to believe it.

Derek's hand brushing his arm brought his attention back to the room. Derek signaled him to follow him. SWAT had found something.

Heart thumping in his chest, Spencer looked at one agent opening a floor door so that Derek could climb down the stairs, gun and torch pointed ahead. Two agents followed him, then it was Spencer's turn. Hotch was right behind him and Spencer knew that Rossi and Seaver couldn't be too far away. They had all wanted to be there for this.

When he reached the end of the narrow stairs, Doyle was already standing with his back to the wall and his hands raised above his head. Derek and the two SWAT agents were pointing their guns at him. Spencer quickly did the same.

Hotch took out his handcuffs, but Derek stopped him before he could get close to Doyle. "Don't. If we arrest him, he's going to escape again; we both know that."

Spencer turned his head to look at him. He knew what he meant. They could kill him right there, tell everyone he'd tried to fight back. Happened all the time, didn't it?

But it wouldn't be right.

It would go against all that they had been fighting for all those years.

"Derek," Spencer said, before Hotch could start talking. He used his first name, which he almost never did when they were working – another one of their tricks to keep their relationship out of their job as much as possible. But right now he needed Derek to really _hear_ him. "I know what you're saying, but it's not what Emily would have wanted and it's not what you really want to do. You hate him; I hate him too. He probably deserves to die, but not like this. Please, just let Hotch cuff him. He already took Emily away from me, don't let him take you too."

Derek tightened his grip on his gun, for a moment it looked like he was going to shoot him. He was fighting with himself, struggling to choose whether to do what _felt_ right or what he knew _was_ right.

In the end, he lowered his gun. He looked at Doyle for a few more seconds, as if he was rethinking his decision, but then he turned around and headed upstairs.

Spencer stood there, eyes and gun on Doyle, as Hotch cuffed him.

It was over. It was finally over.

He felt empty.


	9. Chapter 8: Consequences

**Chapter Eight: Consequences**

It had been a one-hour flight back to Washington, but it'd felt like an eternity. Spencer had been fidgeting all along and it hadn't been easy for Derek to fight the urge to just take him in his arms and hold him.

The others probably wouldn't have minded; they weren't coming back from just any case, after all. But they had rules, he and Spencer. In three years, they'd only broken them once: at the hospital, after JJ had given them the news of Emily's death, they had looked for comfort in each other with a long hug and a few quick kisses.

So, no matter how easy it would have been to take the empty seat next to Spencer and run his fingers through his hair, Derek had stayed where he was.

It was only when they finally got home (Derek's apartment, in this case; but they'd taken up the habit of calling home both of their houses) – it was only then that Derek stopped being SSA Morgan to be just Spencer's boyfriend.

Spencer collapsed on the couch, drained of all energies. He begun to fight with the buttons of his jacket, fingers clumsy due to tiredness. Exhausted and frustrated, he started crying.

In a few quick steps, Derek was by his side. He sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around his body, pulling him to his chest. Spencer buried his face in Derek's shoulder. Quiet sobs shook his body for a few moments, then he calmed down.

He felt better now. Derek's arms were a comforting weight on his back, and his body felt warm and safe.

He hadn't cried for Emily in all those months, not since the hospital. It was like he'd been holding his breath all along, waiting for Doyle to be behind bars before he could let go.

Derek was running a hand up and down his spine now and Spencer snuggled into the embrace. With Derek, he didn't need to explain. Didn't need to tell him he felt better now. Derek already knew, just as he knew that Spencer needed to be held for a few more minutes.

"I haven't thanked you yet," Derek said eventually. "It would have been a mistake, even though he deserves to die."

Spencer disentangled himself from Derek's embrace and looked at him. "You're welcome," he said, and that was all they needed to say about it.

"I feel like I could sleep for three weeks," Spencer said after a few minutes of silence. His head was resting on Derek's shoulder and they were holding hands.

"Sorry, baby, we only got one day off."

"Then we'll keep on running on coffee, I guess."

Derek smiled. "Just like we've been doing even since we joined the BAU."

* * *

><p>Derek didn't feel like celebrating: what was there to celebrate after all? Emily was still dead. It was, at best, half a victory.<p>

Still, Spencer had insisted. He'd gone on for five minutes talking about closure and rites of passage and Derek sort of agreed with him: they had to find a way to mark the end of a chapter and move on. If Spencer thought a romantic dinner would be a good start, romantic dinner it was.

They ate their food talking about anything but work: a particularly interesting book Spencer had read recently, a car Derek was considering on buying, the endlessly postponed project of moving in together, the upcoming Halloween party Spencer had talked Derek into attending and what costumes would they wear.

After quickly clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, they moved to the living room with a bottle of wine and a slice of cake. Spencer had picked the wine, insisting Derek was an expert on club drinks but didn't know much about wines; while the cake – a creamy raspberry cheesecake – had been Derek's choice.

"That was nice," Derek said after they'd finished the cake. "We should do this more often."

"We would, if we didn't get a call from Hotch or Garcia every time we try." Spencer was still nursing his glass of wine. "I'm quite surprised it hasn't happened yet tonight."

"Don't jinx it."

"Sorry. I take it back." He took a last long sip at his wine, then set the empty glass next to Derek's on the small table in front of them. He settled more comfortably on the couch, resting his weight against Derek's side. He felt Derek's arm was around his shoulders and closed his eyes for a few moments.

After a few minutes of easy silence had gone by, Spencer reopened his eyes and looked at Derek. Their lips met in a kiss, soft at first, but then more and more passionate as their bodies responded to it. Soon enough Spencer was lying on his back with Derek on top of him and their hands were tracing known paths over their arms, chests and backs.

Derek took off his own shirt first, then unbuttoned Spencer's. His fingers lingered for a few moments on Spencer's nipples, torturing them and making him sigh with pleasure. Then, they moved down his stomach to stroke his already half-hard cock through the fabric of his pants. Spencer arched his back slightly and lifted his hips, urging for more contact.

"Easy, baby, we've got all night," Derek whispered in his ear.

Spencer's only answer was a trail of kisses down Derek's neck to his shoulder. His long fingers lingered on Derek's naked skin for a few moments, running up and down his chest, then he pushed him slightly away to make him get up. They both removed quickly the clothes they were still wearing, then their hands were all over each other once again. Still standing, Spencer wrapped his arms around Derek's neck and kissed him, as Derek slid his hands down Spencer's thighs and then lifted him up. He moved a few steps forward towards the door, careful not to bump into anything, but Spencer didn't seem to get enough of his lips and kept on kissing him. Instead of heading to the bedroom, Derek paused next to the living room door. He pressed Spencer's back to the doorframe.

"Stop kissing me like that or I'll drop you," he said when Spencer let go of his lips for a second.

"You can kick down a door but you can't carry your boyfriend to the bedroom, now?" Spencer smiled and kissed him again.

"It's hard to—" The rest of Derek's words were swallowed in Spencer's mouth.

Derek kissed him back, then bent his head to the side so he could reach Spencer's neck and torture the hot skin there. Spencer moaned and pressed his thighs more tightly against Derek's hips, making him sigh.

"I want to fuck you so hard," Derek said in a low, husky voice.

Hands firm under Spencer's thighs, he moved away from the doorframe and towards the bedroom, finally laying him down on the bed. He watched as Spencer settled himself against the pillows, then joined him on the bed. He ran a hand down Spencer's chest, watching him as he licked his lips.

Spencer rolled to his side and immediately felt the familiar heat of Derek's body against his back. A strong hand found its place on his hip; their bodies brushed against each other as Derek shifted slightly to position himself better.

"I want you," whispered Spencer. "Now."

Derek sucked his fingers for a couple of seconds, then used them to prepare Spencer. When he finally pushed himself inside him, Spencer arched his back and a soft moan escaped his lips. Derek felt a hand on his thigh, hot skin burning against hot skin. He buried himself deeper inside him, and when Spencer tilted his head to the side to look at him over his shoulder, he kissed him passionately – his body, tongue and hands dancing the same dance.

Feeling close to orgasm, he slid his hand down to wrap his fingers around Spencer's cock. He came a few moments later and buried his face in the crook of Spencer's neck. He felt all Spencer's muscles tense for a second as orgasm overcame him and he moaned Derek's name, then he relaxed against him.

Derek kept an arm around his waist as they both laid there in silence, simply enjoying the pleasurable moments right after sex. Spencer snuggled into his embrace and closed his eyes.

"I love you," whispered Derek after a few minutes.

Spencer rolled over on his back and looked at him, smiling. "I love you, too."

Derek's eyes lingered for a few moments on his boyfriend's lean body, feeling happy just because Spencer looked comfortable at being naked in front of him, when he usually was so awkward with anybody else, even with his clothes to shield him. He kissed his lips lightly, then rested his forehead against his.

"What do we do now?"

Derek thought about it. "We find a way to move on."

"I'm scared I will lose you too," Spencer confessed. "I mean, more scared than before. I've always known that what we do is dangerous, but somehow we'd always managed to survive, you know? Before, it was just statistics of how many agents die on the job every year. I can deal with numbers. They are abstract, they are impersonal. They are not you and me and Emily and our team. What if—what if it is a sign, that we should stop doing what we do?"

"I don't believe any God or whatever's up there would kill Emily just to give us a sign. But if you're asking me if I'm scared—yes, I am. And yes, sometimes I wonder if we shouldn't just leave the BAU and do something less dangerous."

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, then re-opened them and moved away a little so he could look at him. "Be we're not going to quit."

"No, we're not."


	10. Chapter 9: Mind

**PART THREE: A MILLION PIECES**  
><strong><span>Chapter Nine: Mind<span>**

They were supposed to have the morning off, giving them forty-eight hours since the arrest of Doyle to process their feelings before they had to go back to work. Instead, Thursday morning at 8AM, they all received a call from Hotch asking them to come to the office.

Now, sitting around the table in the conference room, they were waiting for him. When they got the call, they'd thought it would be about an urgent case that required their immediate attention. But Garcia didn't have any files for them and didn't know anything about any case they were supposed to take.

"It must be about Doyle, then," Rossi said matter-of-factly.

They all nodded their agreement. Probably Hotch wanted them to talk while they still had time to do it, while they weren't focusing on chasing the next monster.

It was only when the door opened and Hotch came in followed by JJ, that they understood something else was up.

"JJ!" Garcia stood up immediately and went to hug her. As for the others, they were too worried of what the news would be to be happy to see her.

"What I'm about to tell you is strictly confidential at the moment and if it weren't for our friendship I wouldn't be here," JJ started, after Garcia had gone back to her seat.

"If the next words out of your mouth are that Doyle escaped, I'm going to hunt him down and kill him myself," Derek said. Spencer shot him a worried glance, but then focused his attention back on JJ.

"Emily is alive." She paused for a few seconds to let them process the news, but went on explaining before they could start asking questions. "She survived the operation but it would have been too dangerous for her to stay. The only way to keep her safe was to fake her death. We gave her a new identity and enough money to do whatever she wanted with her life."

JJ watched as her old team went through a full range of emotions: disbelief, confusion, relief, happiness, more confusion, and—

"Emily's alive," Spencer repeated as if trying to make it real with his words. There was almost a question mark at the end of the sentence, still some doubts that maybe this wasn't happening, that maybe he'd misunderstood, that maybe it was just an hallucination or his mind playing tricks on him.

"Oh, God!" Garcia suddenly jumped up and hugged JJ again. "She's alive. She's fine." She smiled through the tears. Then, she let JJ go and looked at her. "Why didn't you tell us before? Why did you let us think she was—?"

—and anger.

JJ closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at her friends once again. "I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you but I couldn't. We had to protect her."

"Protect her from _us_?" Derek asked angrily.

"We would never have put her life at risk," Spencer said.

"It was necessary—," JJ started to explain, but she was interrupted by Rossi's voice.

"You knew," he said, addressing Hotch. Not a question, a statement.

And there, right in that moment, all hell broke loose. They could have maybe accepted that their old friend JJ hadn't told them anything up until now, because she was working for the Department of Defense now and they knew what it was like having to lie to your own family and friends because it's your job to do it. But Hotch was one of them. He was unit chief, which put him above them in the chain of command, but he was still part of the team.

"We had to keep it a secret, for Emily's sake," Hotch said, but he knew fully well that it wouldn't be enough.

"All that matters is that Emily's alright," said Garcia.

"The fuck it is!" Derek got up and looked at Hotch right in the eye. He was furious and Hotch couldn't really blame him: he still thought his decision of lying to the team had been the right one and he would take it again without the blink of an eye, but he could understand why they were feeling angry and betrayed.

Derek went on. "All these months, we thought she was dead. We mourned our friend; we struggled to accept her death, to move on, to forgive ourselves for not saving her. And now you tell us that you knew she is alive?"

Garcia bit her lower lip, unsure of what to say or do. Rossi was nodding slowly, agreeing with Derek.

"I need some air," announced Spencer, getting up and walking quickly towards the door. Derek shot another angry look at Hotch and JJ, then turned around and followed him.

The room was silent for a few seconds.

"I think your phone is vibrating," Seaver murmured after a while, almost afraid to talk. She nodded in the direction of Hotch's jacket. His inside pocket was buzzing lightly.

Hotch looked at the caller ID. "I have to take this."

* * *

><p>"Spencer, wait!" Derek quickly followed him down the stairs to the bullpen and into the elevator. Once the doors were closed and Spencer had pushed the button to the roof, he took his hand in his and squeezed it for a moment.<p>

"I just— I can't—," Spencer said. He leaned against the wall and rested his head back against it. He felt the beginning of a headache throbbing against his temples and covered his eyes with his free hand.

Derek moved by his side and let go of his hand only to rub his arm and shoulder. "I know. Me neither."

Despite knowing that the sunlight would hurt his eyes, Spencer headed out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. He felt like he could barely breathe inside the building. Derek followed him as he went to hide in a small shady area. Resting a hand on the small of his back, he offered him the sunglasses he kept hooked to the neckline of his t-shirt. Spencer took them gratefully.

The headache wasn't a bad one. He just needed to stay away from strong lights for a few hours and he'd be fine. He wrapped his arms around Derek's neck and pillowed his head on his shoulder, leaning against him. Derek's arms slid around his waist as he pressed a kiss to Spencer's forehead.

They stood there, trying to make sense of what they'd just been told.

"She's alive," Spencer said after a few minutes, breaking the embrace. "She's out there, somewhere, alive. Living her life. A new life. We saved her, Derek. We saved her. And now that Doyle's in prison, she can come back. She can have her old life back."

"If we hadn't wasted time and energy mourning her death, we would have gotten Doyle weeks, maybe even months ago. She would be here with us right now instead of alone somewhere, fearing for her life." Derek balled his hands into fists. "They had no right to keep it from us, she's our friend… God, she's more than a friend. She's family."

Spencer tightened his lips. He wanted to be happy that Emily was alive and forget everything else, but he couldn't help but feel betrayed. "I—I just want her to come back and for things to go back to normal."

"I don't know if things can go back to normal. Honestly, I don't know if I can trust Hotch again, or if I want to for that matter."

"It's our team. We have to at least try."

Derek shrugged. "I guess."

In that moment, both of their phones rang. They looked at each other.

"Garcia."

"Rossi." Spencer sighed. "We'd better go."

* * *

><p>The tension on the jet was almost suffocating. From the way they were seated – with Hotch slightly isolated from the rest of the team – to how they refused to share any word that wasn't strictly related to the case, it would have been clear to anyone that something was wrong.<p>

Spencer's headache was getting better, but he was still wearing sunglasses. Derek's sunglasses, even though he had his own in his messenger bag. Somehow, though, wearing something of Derek's seemed like a big rebellious act against—against who? It wasn't like Hotch didn't approve of their relationship.

"So, when is Emily coming back?" he asked Rossi as they were getting ready to land. JJ must have told them while he was on the roof with Derek.

Rossi's reply wasn't what he'd hoped for: "We don't know. They're having a hard time contacting her since they need to find her first. They know what name she's using, of course. They also know that she's in Europe. But since she's not in immediate danger and she's not a criminal, the European governments are refusing to give up any information they have. Last time she checked in, she was in Germany, but that was over two weeks ago. They are going to find her, of course, it will just require a few more days of paperwork and phone calls between Embassies."

Spencer nodded slightly. "What are you not telling me?"

The question earned him a 'I hate talking to other profilers' look from Rossi. "Reid, the truth is, it's been six months. And six months are a long time when you're starting a new life. A lot of things have probably changed. She may—she may decide not to come back. I mean, have you ever wished you could leave this job behind?"

Wrapping his arms protectively over his chest, Spencer looked away. "Not Emily. She—she's coming back."

"I hope so," Rossi said, then made his way to the exit.

Spencer waited for Derek and they got out of the plane together.

"I asked Rossi: it's going to be a few more days before they're able to contact her. Foreign governments only cooperate when it's an emergency, and even then just barely. You know how it is."

Derek nodded. "I guess we need to focus on the case, then."

"Yeah, we do." Spencer shot him a sideways glace. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"What if she decides she likes her new life better and doesn't want to come back?"

Derek's only answer was a tightening of the jaw, sign that he'd already considered the possibility but didn't really want to think about it.

* * *

><p>Fifty-two hours later, they were back on the jet. Defeated.<p>

The unsub had managed not only to escape, but also to kill one more victim. One they could have saved, hadn't they been distracted by their feelings. Now it was up to the local police to use the profile to try and find the unsub. Their job was done. Only, it didn't feel that way.

The mood on the jet was heavy.

"Any news of Emily?" Seaver asked Rossi as she went to take a seat in front of him. They were taking off soon, so she secured her seatbelt.

Rossi shook his head. "I've called Strauss twenty minutes ago, they still don't know anything."

Spencer, who'd been following the conversation, sank deeper into his seat. He didn't think he could deal with another person in his life leaving without saying goodbye, not even if the circumstances this time were different. He wouldn't have blamed her, but he couldn't even think about the possibility without feeling a knot in his stomach.

He felt the warmth of Derek's hand covering his on the armrest and closed his eyes. A soft kiss was pressed to his temple, then Derek's arm slid around his shoulders. Spencer resisted for a moment, then gave in and rested his head on Derek's shoulder.

"We shouldn't," he whispered. "Rule number one."

"Fuck the rules." Derek didn't let him go. Never before had he kissed or even hugged Spencer like that in front of the others. Not even when Spencer had been in pain from his knee or from a headache. Not unless they were out together in their free time. But it was different then, because they weren't profilers or co-workers when they hanged out together like that: they were friends.

Right now, he didn't care that they were technically still on the job. He didn't care that it threatened to strain even more the already precarious balance between the members of the team. It actually felt strangely good to kiss Spencer on the FBI jet, while Hotch was watching them. It was as if by breaking the rules he was taking some sort of revenge for being lied to. Above all, though, he was challenging Hotch to dare to say anything and silently hoping that he would. He was just one word away from punching him in the face and was only waiting for the smallest of reasons to do it.

Not that he would have admitted it to anyone or even to himself, of course. But Spencer knew. He also knew that if Emily didn't came back, the team would fall apart. And even if she came back, Spencer wasn't sure it would be enough at this point.


	11. Chapter 10: Heart

**Chapter Ten: Heart**

It had been Rossi's idea to get away from the city all together. As soon as they'd landed in Washington, Hotch had been called to Strauss's office. They hadn't even had to wait for him to come out of it twenty-five minutes later: they'd figured out immediately what it was about. Time off. Officially, so that they could recover from the past few months of mourning Emily and from the shock of finding out that she was still alive. Unofficially, of course, it was more about their recent screw-up than anything else.

"Figure it out," Strauss had said. "I don't care how, just do it."

Ten days apart weren't going to do much to solve their problems, they all knew that. So they had all welcomed Rossi's invite to his countryside house. Not that they were looking forward to it, but they knew they had to find a way to move on – one way or another. Whether it would be understanding Hotch and JJ's choice and forgiving them, or choosing to leave the team and do something else with their lives, they still didn't know. Hoping it would be the former didn't mean the latter looked less likely.

"I got an offer from New York," Derek said as casually as possible.

Spencer, sitting cross-legged on the bed, was winning a game of gin by 300 points. As soon as Derek gave him the news, his eyes moved from the cards he was holding to his boyfriend's face.

"You're thinking about going?" he asked, trying to use as neutral a tone as he could.

"Not without you, if that's what you mean." Derek discarded a five of spades.

"But you _are_ thinking about it," insisted Spencer.

Derek shrugged. "I'm considering my options and you should do the same. In ten days, when our time off is over, I'm not sure we'll have a team to go back to."

"I don't think I can make any plans without knowing if Emily will come back or not." Spencer laid his cards face down on the bed. "And I don't know what other options I have to be honest."

"I'm not asking you to give your notice to the landlord and pack your bags, but I think we should talk about it. Consider our options. Of which, by the way, you have more than I do." Derek abandoned his cards too and moved closer to Spencer. He put his hands on his shoulders and rubbed them lightly. "You could teach, for example. Columbia University is a short commute from New York and I bet they would love to have you."

Spencer looked away. "I don't want to teach and I would be horrible at it."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Well, they do have FBI headquarters in New York. I should know, I got a call from them."

"I didn't. And working for different departments would mean never seeing each other, while working for the same one would mean you'd be my boss, which would over-complicate things."

What Spencer was saying was true and Derek knew it. "We'll figure it out, Pretty boy." He pulled Spencer to him so that he was resting his head against his chest. "One step at a time, okay? First we need to decide if we can and want to stay. If we can't or don't want to, we'll find something else."

Spencer nodded slightly and wrapped an arm around Derek's waist, moving to nestle himself in between Derek's legs. "Do you think she's coming back?"

"I don't know, kid." Derek kissed his hair. "I hope so."

* * *

><p>JJ stopped the car just behind Hotch's, put the brakes on and leaned back against the seat. She wanted to take a moment before going inside.<p>

Everyone else was already there: she recognized the cars parked in front of the house. Spencer's car was missing, but it was to be expected. He never liked to drive and he had probably spent the night before with Morgan anyway: it wouldn't have made sense for them to take separate cars.

It hadn't been easy for her to take some time off on such short notice, but she knew she had to be there. She'd been the one telling them a lie in the first place. Hotch had just played along because he didn't really have a choice. Well, he did, but he knew what the consequences of telling the truth could be.

She hoped the rest of the team could understand that they only did it to protect Emily. It was the only way they could be a team again.

After taking a deep breath, she unhooked her seatbelt and got out of the car. The air was chilly and she pulled her jacket more tightly around her body. She took her away bag from the back seat, then locked the car and walked to the front door.

She had a plan, sort of. Talking to everyone individually, explaining the reasons behind the lie and hoping to God they would understand. She couldn't allow the team to fall apart like that, especially now that she was coming back. It wasn't official just yet, but it was only a matter of days before she could announce it. Rossi and Hotch were the only ones who knew at the moment: she'd chosen to keep it from the others in part not to jinx it and in part to avoid getting their hopes up in case it didn't work out.

She took the phone out of her pocket and checked for new text messages or calls. Nothing. Apparently, there was still no news of Emily. Even though she knew it was normal, she was beginning to worry. What if something had happened to her?

She shrugged the thought away and rang the bell. Everything was going to be okay. She was going to make sure of that.

* * *

><p>Everything went quite good for the first few hours since JJ's arrival. First she talked to Garcia, who was already over having being lied to and was just worried about the team and the lack of news from Emily. They talked for a long time, sharing their fears and reassuring each other, and also catching up on their lives. After JJ had left the team, they used to meet up at least twice a month – the two of them and Emily. After Emily was gone, they'd kept doing it, but less and less frequently because it made them miss Emily even more.<p>

After hugging Garcia and promising her they would talk more in the evening, she went to look for Seaver. She barely knew her, having only met her once, but she was right in assuming that it would be easy talking to her. The thing was, she wasn't part of the family just yet. She was getting there, but it was too soon and she knew that. The others had good reasons for feeling betrayed, she didn't. All she had was questions: where had Emily been, was she coming back, was she okay.

JJ tried to reassure her as much as she could without making promises she may not be able to keep.

"I think she'll come back," Seaver said after a while, with a confidence JJ wasn't expecting from her. "She loves this team and she loves this job. She'll come back."

JJ nodded but didn't say anything. Six months were a long time and she couldn't shake away the feeling that something would go terribly wrong very soon. But then again, she'd been wrong before and maybe the bad feeling was just due to stress.

When her conversation with Seaver was over, she went to look for Spencer. She found him in the big kitchen, standing by the window with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. Feeling a presence in the room, he turned around, smiling. "Der—?" His smile faded away when he saw her.

"I have nothing to say to you," he said.

"Spence, I'm sorry." JJ looked at him in the eye. "You have no idea how hard it was for me – and Hotch – to keep it from you. But we had to, to protect her."

"And do you have any idea how hard it was to lose her? To think she was _dead_?" Spencer broke eye contact. He tightened his grip on the mug. "I thought we were friends."

He set the mug down on the table and stormed out of the room without giving her time to reply. In the living room, Derek was listening to music and blatantly ignoring Hotch. Spencer didn't stop when he passed by him, didn't even make eye contact, and that made Derek get up and reach for his wrist. "Pretty boy."

Spencer stopped and moved a little closer to Derek. He looked up to see JJ come out of the kitchen. He held her gaze for a few seconds, then looked away. "I told you, I'm not talking to you. I just _can't_ right now. All I want is to know if Emily is safe and if she's coming home. Nothing else matters right now."

JJ opened her mouth to say something, but Hotch spoke first. "Don't say that. This team still matters, or at least I hope it does. We need to talk about all this: it's the only way we're going to get past it. I believe we can figure it out, but we need to talk."

That, for Derek, was the final straw. He let go of Spencer's wrist and launched forward to punch Hotch in the face. He hit him just under his eye, making him stagger backwards.

"You are the one who should have _talked_! Months ago. Before you let us think we were burying our friend," he said, furious. His fist was still clenched, but he didn't try to punch Hotch again. Instead, he let Spencer take him by the shoulders and guide him towards the stairs to the upper floor.

"He's got a nerve asking us to talk it out after he kept that secret for months!" Derek was saying as they stepped inside the bedroom they were sharing. "I'm not even sure we can get past this by talking, anyway. Actually, I'm not sure we can get past this, period."

Spencer paced nervously around the room. "We should leave. I don't see us getting anywhere. Maybe we should just go home and take a break from all this. Once we hear from Emily, maybe things will change. Or maybe not, but at least we won't fight anymore." He turned around to look at Derek. "I'm tired of all this, Der. I just want it to be over and for Emily to be back."

Nodding, Derek moved closer to him and placed his hands on Spencer's hips. "You're right. We could use a few days to clear our minds. Let's go home, kid."

* * *

><p>"Don't you think it's a little melodramatic to pack your bags and leave?" Rossi asked when Derek opened the door. Spencer was almost finished placing his things in his suitcase and Derek's bag was already closed and ready.<p>

"I don't think Hotch wants another black eye to match the one I gave him earlier."

"He doesn't," Rossi confirmed. "And for what it's worth, I don't think he deserved it."

Derek let out a bitter laugh. "You're on his side, now?"

"I didn't know we were taking sides." Rossi pushed the door wide open so he could look at both his friends and not just Derek, who was standing in between him and Spencer. "Listen, if you feel like you need some time away from everything and everyone else to get some perspective, go ahead. But then you need to come back and let them explain. They deserve at least that. You can choose to leave the unit after that, but you need to give them a chance first."

"You're okay with what they did," Derek stated.

"I just had a long chat with Hotch and I understand why they did it, yes. In their place, I would have probably done the same thing," Rossi admitted. "I hope you two find a way to understand their reasons or at least to forgive them. Maybe this will help: Emily called JJ a few minutes ago. She's on her way to the airport: she's coming here."

* * *

><p>The news of Emily's return changed Derek and Spencer's mind about leaving. Sure, they could go back to Washington and pick her up at the airport the following evening. But she would want to go see the others too, so what was the point of leaving if they were coming back anyway?<p>

Hotch and JJ were keeping to themselves, choosing to wait till Emily's arrival before trying to talk to Derek and Spencer again. They'd spent the night playing Monopoly with Rossi, while Seaver and Garcia had joined Derek and Spencer on the couch for a movie.

Now, as the end titles ran on the screen, Spencer was reciting the entire filmography of Christian Bale as if he were reading it from IMDB and Seaver was regretting ever asking if he was in 'Velvet Goldmine' or not.

All of sudden, Garcia spoke up. "So, do you think she's coming back for good or will she go back to her new life after a few days here?" By the way she'd asked the question, it was clear she had been mulling over it for a while.

No one spoke. Hotch looked at JJ, asking her silently whether she knew something or not. JJ shook her head slightly. Emily hadn't said anything and she hadn't asked. All they knew was that she was coming there.

In the end, after long seconds of silence, it was Rossi who spoke. "Well, we're gonna have to ask her when she arrives. In the meanwhile, let's just try and be happy that we'll get to see her again," he said very matter-of-factly.

Derek and Spencer looked at each other. Neither of them had considered the possibility that she may only come back to say goodbye.

"I'm really tired tonight," Spencer said, getting up. "I'll head to bed. Goodnight."

After kissing Derek lightly on the lips, he disappeared up the stairs. Derek followed him with his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" Garcia said.

"Not your fault, baby girl." Derek got up. "I'll go talk to him. I'll see you tomorrow."

He kissed Garcia's forehead, then went after Spencer. He found him taking off his clothes to get ready for bed.

"I don't want to talk about it." Spencer grabbed his PJs from under his pillow and put on his pants. Everything about the way he moved told Derek just how scared he was that Emily could in fact only be stopping by for a few days.

"Spencer, baby, it's okay to be scared. I am too. I don't want to lose her again." Derek closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Spencer. "But I don't think we will. She loves this team, this job… she loves _us_. We're as important to her as she is to us. If it were you who had to disappear for six months, wouldn't you come back?"

Derek wished he was as sure of he was saying as he pretended to be. It didn't matter. The important thing right now was to calm Spencer down. There was no point in him panicking for a whole day while waiting for Emily to arrive.

"You know I would." Spencer rested his forehead against Derek's. "But usually I'm not the one doing the leaving."

"It's _Emily_. She won't leave. She just… won't."


	12. Chapter 11: Body

**Chapter Eleven: Body**

Ringing that bell was the single most terrifying thing Emily had ever done, and at the same time the easiest. She thought that must be how soldiers felt when they came back from war.

In a way, she _had_ been to war for the past six months: with Doyle, with herself, with her demons. Never trusting anyone, never lingering too long in one place, always aware that her life may be in danger, constantly missing her team, her family.

Had she been someone else, she would have spent hour upon hour rethinking the choices and actions that brought her there. She wasn't that kind of person. Emily Prentiss simply didn't do that. Even if sometimes it was hard to remember that she was, in fact, still Emily, and that she had friends, people she loved and who cared about her. Some days she would look in the mirror and didn't know who was looking back.

She shrugged those thoughts away. Emily Prentiss was back from the dead and soon enough the last six months would be just a bad dream.

The door opened. She was home now.

* * *

><p>Hours went by like seconds as the whole team sat down at the kitchen table drinking coffee and tea, and catching up. They wanted to know where she'd been, what she'd done, how it'd been like. She talked about Paris and Berlin, London and Venice, Prague and Barcelona. Big cities, always, because they allow you to be anonymous in a way that small ones don't. She talked about the long journeys by train and the warm nights spent reading and drinking wine. She did not however talk about the loneliness, the emptiness, the fear. That was better left in the past.<p>

It was only after 1 AM that everyone excused themselves to their respective rooms to get a few hours of sleep. Emily, blaming the jet lag, told them she would stay up a little longer.

Now, alone in the big wooden kitchen, she poured herself another cup of tea and went to sit by the window. She sipped at her tea quietly, trying not to think about anything important.

Once her cup was empty, she went to the sink and washed it. Then, careful not to make any sound so not to wake up the others, she went upstairs and headed to her room. It was Rossi's house and she'd never been there before, and yet it felt more like home than any other place in the past six months.

Passing by the room Derek and Spencer were sharing, she saw the light was still on. She'd planned to talk to them in the morning, but since apparently they were still up, she decided to do it now. She knocked softly and waited.

It was Derek who opened the door. "Hey."

"Hey. I saw the light was still on…"

He moved to the side so she could come into the room. Spencer was already in bed, but he wasn't sleeping: he was reading a book. As soon as she stepped inside, he set it down on the nightstand.

"We haven't had a chance to talk yet. I mean, just the three of us." Emily sat down on the edge of the bed and Derek followed her example, so that they were sitting in a triangle and could look at each other. "I want to know how you've been. Spencer, how are your headaches?"

Spencer shifted uncomfortably. "Same as when you left. I've been trying not to think about what it could mean."

Emily reached out to take his hand in hers and squeezed it for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

She shrugged. "Yeah, but, you know, I'm sorry I wasn't here this whole time. I know it's been hard for you both."

Derek pressed his lips together, but didn't talk. It was Spencer who said, in a small voice: "We thought you were dead."

Without letting go of Spencer's hand, she reached for Derek's too and squeezed them both. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to call you and let you know that I was okay." She looked at Derek. "That you saved me. Believe me, I never wanted you to have to go through this. But my death needed to look real. You understand that, right? Doyle might have been watching you, so we needed to make sure that your reaction was authentic. I am so sorry for having lied to you like that…"

Derek interrupted her. "It's not you I'm angry at."

"I know. You're angry at Hotch and JJ. But what I'm telling you is that I agreed to keep it from you. I was the one who said it was necessary. Doyle knew me, really knew me, and he'd been watching me for weeks. He knew how close we are and if he had only the slightest suspicion that I was alive, it would have been you two he would have kept an eye on."

"Emily, I understand all that. You did the right thing. You may not be alive if it hadn't been for this plan." Derek paused. "You weren't here. You never looked at me while I was struggling to… to accept that I hadn't been able to save you – and said nothing. You never lied to my face when you knew I was hurting."

Emily looked at him. "I know. And I understand why you're angry. But you have to let it go. All they were trying to do, was to protect me. If it had been you who knew that I was still alive, would you have put my life at risk and told them?"

Derek held her gaze for a few seconds, then looked down at their joined hands and shook his head. Slowly, all his anger was fading away. He looked at Spencer, who'd been quiet for a while.

"Spencer?" Emily called him softly.

"I don't know how I feel right now," he admitted. "Maybe my next paper should be on the Reverse Stages of Grief, exploring the range of emotions you go through when you find out that someone you thought was dead is actually alive. I really should—"

"Spencer, breathe." Derek put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently.

"—look into what other researchers wrote on the subject and maybe…" Spencer stopped talking a took a deep breath. He covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, then looked at Emily. When he started talking again, he was calmer. "It was hard losing you. And I didn't even get to say goodbye, you know? It was like one day you just… left. Only it wasn't your choice. You _died_. Now I find out that you did leave without saying goodbye and that my friends lied to me."

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer went on. He had to let it all out.

"I am _so_ happy that you're back. I was scared that you wouldn't return, that you'd decide you liked your new life better. I'm not sure how I would have dealt with that. But you came back. And I understand why you had to leave and why you and Hotch and JJ had to lie to us. I am not completely okay with all this just yet, but I will be. I will talk to JJ and Hotch tomorrow. It will be okay. You just need to give me some time to be a hundred percent okay with it. It all happened so fast."

"Yeah, I still haven't quite realized that I'm actually _back_." Emily looked down for a few seconds, then back at them. "So, we are okay?"

"Yes," Spencer confirmed.

"Good." Emily smiled. "Then we'll talk more tomorrow. Now you look like you're about to fall asleep, and I must admit that I'm tired too."

She got up, but Derek stopped her. "Stay. Sleep here tonight."

She looked at him, then at Spencer, and she nodded. They needed it just as much as she did. They wanted to have her close, to make sure she was alive, safe, and that she wasn't going anywhere. For her part, she needed to not be alone, to be held, to have her friends there with her.

She stripped down to her underwear and put on the t-shirt Derek was offering her, then slipped under the blankets next to Spencer. Derek joined them soon after and leaned over her to kiss Spencer.

"Goodnight, Pretty boy. Goodnight, Emily." He looked at her for a couple of seconds, then kissed her too, softly.

She turned around and kissed Spencer. "Goodnight."

"Night."

Derek's and Spencer's arms slid around her body and they joined hands on her hip. She settled down into their embrace and closed her eyes, feeling safe and loved for the first time since she'd heard Doyle's name again.

* * *

><p><em>And tonight we can truly say,<em>  
><em>Together we're invincible<em>  
><strong>Invincible, Muse<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>


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